


Rules to Live By

by Jormus



Series: Something's Wrong With Arcadia [2]
Category: Tales of Arcadia (Cartoons), Trollhunters (Cartoon)
Genre: Changelings, Gen, Goblins, Horror, Outside perspectives on the supernatural in Arcadia, Suspense, Trolls
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-06
Updated: 2019-05-24
Packaged: 2019-11-13 02:48:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,285
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18023327
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jormus/pseuds/Jormus
Summary: Axel’s Construction and Repair is the oldest and most successful construction company in Arcadia. People assume it is because of their excellent staff and attentive care of their employees. It isn’t. Those factors are important of course but the real reason they've lasted this long is the three rules everyone in the company abides by.





	1. Rule 3

**_Rule Number 3: Always stay in a group of four or more people._ **

The sewers are quiet aside from the constant dripping of water. The sound of footsteps echoes off the walls as Luke, Samson, Jesse and Marisol make their way through the tunnels.

“Do we really have to have that on?” Luke complains.

Marisol’s radio has been crackling the whole time they’ve been down here and it is starting to get on his nerves.

“It’s company policy,” She says with a shrug.

Samson nods, grey eyes scanning the tunnel ahead.

“It’s also one of the Three Rules,” He adds. “And we do _not_ break those.”

Luke huffs but doesn’t make any further comment. The sound of dripping water grows louder as they make their way down the tunnel. They turn a corner and see the source. It is one of the water pipes. It’s bent at an angle as if something large slammed into it. One of the joints is jarred and leaking.

Samson hums as he regards it thoughtfully.

“It looks like we’ll need to replace this one. I’ll patch it for now and then we can head back up.”

Samson waves Marisol forward to help him as he begins laying out his tools. That leaves Jesse and Luke with nothing to do. Jesse is new and seems happy just to watch the other two work, but Luke quickly becomes bored. Why did they even need all of them down here? Samson probably could have fixed it on his own.

Luke drifts off from the others. It wouldn’t hurt to take a look around.

Without the crackle of Marisol’s radio, Luke’s steps sound obnoxiously loud. He wishes he had a brighter headlight. Why did the tunnel have to be so _big_ anyway? It wasn’t like they are going to drive a truck down here.

He stills when he hears a soft scratching sound ahead. Rats maybe? Luke’s lip curls. He isn’t super squeamish, but something about the furry little monsters really creeps him out. He turns around and starts heading back toward the others. Samson and Marisol are probably done now.

Something whispers behind him. Luke whips around.

“Who’s there?”

There is no response. It is probably just his imagination playing tricks on him. He turns around and begins walking again, a little bit faster. The others are probably wondering where he is.

“ _Waaaakaa,”_ A strange hoarse voice murmurs from somewhere to his left.

Luke spins, his headlight cutting through the darkness in front of him. His heart is beating a little faster.

“This isn’t funny… Where are you?”

One of the rats scuttles by in the darkness to his right, causing him to let out a little yelp.  Sweat trickles down the back of his neck making his skin itch.

“Come on… you’ve had your fun now. Come out.”

_“Miiinnnn Daaahhh.”_

Luke turns toward the sound and this time a pair of glowing yellow eyes is staring back at him. Whatever it is, it’s about the size of a raccoon and just out of his light’s range.

“ _Mintark charra,”_ It whispers taking a step forward.

Luke takes a step back. A second pair of  eyes appear beside the first and then another and another. There must be about fifteen of them watching from just outside of the circle of light. They whisper and growl to each other in voices like rustling leaves. One of them _giggles._

A deep visceral fear seeps through Luke’s body like ice water. His knees are shaking. His breath is coming rapidly. One of the creatures takes a step forward into the light of his headlamp. It looks like a cat but _Not._ It’s sniffing the air, bouncing excitedly on long spindly limbs. It licks its chops, takes another step forward and…

“Luke!”

A bright light shines on him from behind and the creatures scatter like cockroaches. Luke doesn’t think he’s ever been so happy to hear Samson’s voice.

“Don’t wander off like that,” He says sharply as he grabs Luke’s shoulder.

His hand lingers a moment as he looks him up and down. Marisol and Jesse stand behind him shifting from leg to leg uncertainly. After a moment he seems satisfied and releases him.

“Come on.”

Luke quickly falls into step beside Samson, glancing back every few seconds.

“Did you see those things?” He whispers urgently.

“We don’t talk about _them_.” Samson's tone is terse. “You’d best pretend you never saw anything.”

“But…”

“It won’t end well.” He turns his head and his gaze bores into Luke. “Never wander off like that again. You understand me? Never. The Rules are there for a reason.”

Luke’s throat is dry and his tongue sticks to the roof of his mouth. He nods. Samson gives his shoulder a quick squeeze and they continue walking.

Luke hears something rustle behind them. He almost looks back but Samson catches his gaze and shakes his head. Luke swallows and keeps his eyes forward. He focuses on the sound of Marisol’s radio crackling gently as it sends out a signal to their human resources office.

An image of glowing eyes flickers through Luke’s mind and he shivers. He wonders what would have happened if Samson didn’t come when he did.

He resolves to never find out.


	2. Rule 2

**_Rule Number 2: Be home by nightfall._ **

Inga has always been careful. Over 30 years working for her company and she has never broken one of the Three Rules… At least not until tonight. She runs her fingers over the strap of her handbag as she stares at the flat tire.

There is a saying: whatever can go wrong, will go wrong. Normally she wouldn’t even be out at this hour, but she had gotten caught up in her work and not noticed the time slipping by. Johan, the janitor, always drops by her office at closing to make sure she goes home on time, but today he was out sick. That, coupled with the fact she has never quite gotten around to getting a cell phone, means she is stranded.

Inga takes a shaky breath and climbs back in the car. She’s far too old to change the tire herself. She could try to walk home, but it’s a very long walk, far longer than she can manage safely in the dark, and at least here, in her car, there’s a layer of metal surrounding her. She contemplates turning on the blinkers. Maybe a passing vehicle will notice her and stop to help. She pauses with her fingers on the button. The idea of attracting more attention strikes her as a bad one. She’ll turn them on if she hears someone coming.

Inga sighs and whispers a prayer under her breath, nervously crossing herself. She needs all the help she can get tonight.

An hour slowly ticks by, but no cars appear. The road is eerily empty for a town the size of Arcadia. With every second that passes she finds herself becoming more anxious. Other… _things…_ aside, spending the night in a car at her age will not be good for her health.

Her gaze flits fretfully up and down the road. She freezes. Something is moving on the tree-line. Something _big_.

Acting more on instinct than reason, she crawls into the back seat. Her bones creak and protest against the action. The emergency brake stabs her in the leg. She’ll have bruises in the morning.

On the back seat is a blanket she keeps around for winter. Her old Volkswagen takes far too long to warm up. She lays down as flat as she can on the seat and covers herself with it.

Trying to move as little as possible she reaches into her shirt and grabs her rosary. Slowly she begins praying the beads. Her breathing calms down and she begins to think that maybe everything will be okay.

Something bumps the car.

Inga freezes, not daring to even breathe. She grips the crucifix so hard that she can feel it bite into her skin.

Something is sniffing at her car door. Her pulse speeds up.  The car tilts for a moment before being dropped back onto all four wheels with a thump. Igna holds in a whimper, tears prickling at her eyes, and starts praying again.

For a moment it’s quiet, but before she can even dare hope that _it_ has gone away, she hears something scrape at the door by her head.

Her breath catches and the metal begins to make a sound that reminds her of a can opening.

_It’s coming for her._

She squeezes her eyes closed. She hopes it will be quick.

It stops. In the ensuing silence she can hear the sound of a vehicle approaching. The sound of pop music playing obnoxiously loud on a radio slowly fades into her hearing.

Inga waits. She doesn’t dare to move yet.

There’s a low snarl and then the sound of something large moving through the underbrush. It fades away as the car approaches.

Inga lets out her breath and sits up. Pain flares through her joins. She glances around rapidly then shields her eyes against the headlights of the approaching vehicle.

The vehicle, a large red truck, pulls to a halt beside her and the driver opens out. He knocks on her window.

“Hey, Inga! Johan called me earlier saying he was worried ya didn’t make it home… Looks like he was right. Ya need a ride?”

It’s John Borden. He just started working at Axel’s about a month ago.

Inga quickly throws off the blanket, unlocks the door, and darts out.

“Woah! What’s your rush?”

Inga is already climbing into the passenger’s side of his car and buckling in.

“It’s late,” She says, voice uncharacteristically terse as her eyes dart around scanning the bushes warily. “We should get going.”

“Okay, okay!” He holds out his hands placiatingly. “Just a… Woah!”

Inga’s heart sinks into her stomach as she sees him crouch down to examine her car’s door.

“Check out these scratches! What did this?”

“It doesn’t matter.”

Inga’s heart rate is starting to go up again. They need to get out of here before _it_ returns.

“Can we please get going? I should really get home and call Johan so he stops worrying about me. He really needs to be sleeping.” She injects as much pleading as she can into her voice.

John lets out an annoyed huff and pulls out his phone. He snaps a quick picture of her car door then climbs into the driver’s seat.

After Inga gives John her address they talk very little on the ride home. John seems content just to listen to the radio, head bobbing along to the beat. Inga on the other hand is still full of nerves. Every few seconds she finds herself checking to make sure that the truck door is locked.

John pulls up in front of her house and stops there, engine idling. Inga opens the door, but pauses before exiting.

“Mr. Borden? A word of advice…”

“Hmmm?”

“Make sure you delete that picture,” She says.

He no doubt saved her life tonight, she owes him at least this much.

“Why?” He sounds genuinely curious.

“Nothing good will come of it,” She says and then lowers her voice. “Don’t forget Rule One.”

John rolls his eyes. Inga sighs and climbs out of the truck.

“Thank you for the ride.”

“You’re welcome,” He says.

She doesn’t stay long enough to see him drive away. Inga bolts up her walkway, ignoring the pain from her bruised leg. She nearly drops her keys in her haste to get the door open.

It’s not until she’s inside, with the lights on and the door locked, that she finally lets herself relax and breathe out a prayer of thanks.

She slowly walks into the kitchen and pulls out her old tea kettle. It’s worn from use, but still in good condition. She fills it up and puts it on the stove, then makes sure to call Johan.

Fifteen minutes later she’s settling into her reading chair with a cup of chamomile tea.

Before she pulls out her book, she’s careful to close the blinds.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whew! Finally got around to finishing this one. Bular really does make for a good horror story monster.  
> I'm really excited for the next one...  
> John should be more careful.


	3. Rule 1

**_Rule Number 1: If you see something strange do not acknowledge it or investigate._ **

“Come _on_! Ya have to have noticed something by now!”

Duke leans away as particles of John’s lunch spray from his mouth. His nose wrinkles in disgust.

“ _Please_ don’t speak with food in your mouth.”

_Honestly!_ Duke’s five-year-old has better manners than this grown man.

John rolls his eyes but actually listens for once. He swallows his food, takes a big gulp of water, and slams his bottle down on the table with entirely too much force. Duke wonders why he’s eating with him. He usually eats with Marisol these days. She’s nice and they have a great time swapping pictures and stories about their kids.

“Seriously… am I the only one who notices how strange this place is?”

Right… That was why. Duke can practically feel the people at the surrounding tables listening in. He refrains from heaving a sigh.

“There is _nothing_ strange in Arcadia. You should _really_ quit that dumb conspiracy stuff. It’s bad for you. You might get involved with something _dangerous_.”

He emphasizes the last word hoping his coworker will get the message, but John, the absolute _idiot_ , sprawls across the table with a dramatic sigh.

“Not you _too_! Is everyone here deaf and blind?”

No. They just knew how to mind their own business. Duke sighs and finishes his sandwich. He wipes his hands with his napkin as he stands up.

“It was nice talking with you,” He says because it’s polite.

“Yeah… yeah…” John waves him off. “See ya later.”

“…Good bye.”

Samson gives him a sympathetic look as he passes him on his way out. Duke tried. He really did.

* * *

 

It’s Friday morning and Duke has just finished putting his lunch in the mini-fridge when someone knocks at his office door.

“Come in.”

John enters and Duke immediately feels the hair on the back of his neck go up. Something is wrong.

Duke takes a seat behind his desk and puts on his Customer Service Smile. He straightens the picture of his daughters and folds his hands in front of him.

“What can I help you with?”

John puts on a guilty expression; brows furrowed and eyes averted.

“I’d like to put in my two weeks’ notice,” He says.

Duke stills for a moment. So _that’s_ what this is…

Duke takes a slow breath, watching as the man across from him plays with his tie. He recognizes it. It’s crimson silk with a pleasant pattern of fleurs-de-lis across it. John’s girlfriend bought it for him last Valentine’s Day. It used to be his favorite but he hasn’t worn it since they broke up.

“So you’re quitting then,” Duke says carefully. “Any particular reason?”

The man sighs dramatically and rubs the back of his neck.

“I’m just so tired of this small town. It was close enough to L.A. that I thought it’d be great, but it turns out it’s just boring. I need more in my life. You know?”

He grins at Duke. It’s all teeth.

“I see.”

Duke opens a drawer and pulls out a couple forms. He gives them a quick scan and modifies a few lines before sliding them across the table.

“Well, it’s been nice knowing you. I’m going to need you to fill out these forms and then Jason and I will escort you to your cubicle to collect your things.”

The man cocks his head and raises an eyebrow at him.

“Right now? This is just my two weeks’ notice.”

“I know but per company policy you will have your last two weeks off. I think we started that practice so people wouldn’t mess with stuff once they didn’t have to worry about being fired.”

The man chuckles. “Makes sense.”

He signs the papers without reading them as Duke calls Jason to his office. Together they help the man clean out John’s cubical. The other workers watch quietly.

Once everything is done Jason drops back to talk to the receptionist. They appear engrossed in their conversation but Duke knows both are watching. He’s grateful.

Duke holds the door open but does not cross the threshold himself.

“If you find that you’ve forgotten anything let us know and we’ll be sure to get it for you.”

 “Of course.”

The man pauses and observes Duke for a moment.

“So what do you think of the stuff I said earlier?” He asks abruptly.

“What stuff?”

“You know… the _things_ in Arcadia?”

He leans a little too close. His eyes reflect the florescent lights strangely. Duke slams down his gut response to step back. He wouldn’t have survived those four years in retail if he showed what he was feeling _that_ easily. He puts on a friendly but dismissive expression and snorts.

“ _I_ think you need to stop hitting the bars so late at night.”

“Hey!”

The man is trying to sound offended but Duke can hear that he’s pleased. They both pretend to find the exchange hilarious and laugh. He watches Duke for a moment longer after they stop and then smiles at him in a relaxed manner.

“Thank-you for making this so easy.”

Duke nods, still keeping up his pleasant demeanor. They _…_ It _…  The Man_ grins at him again and waves as _he_ strolls off toward John’s red pickup truck. Duke watches until it’s out of sight before returning to his office.

His hands are shaky as he retrieves the small bottle of scotch from the back of his filing cabinet. Normally drinking on the job is against regulations, but there are exceptions. The boss himself gave him this bottle as a gift. He takes a small swig and leans back in the chair with his eyes closed, waiting as the warmth from the alcohol chases away the tenseness in his limbs.

Once he’s a little steadier he reaches out for the pictures of his girls. They’re five and seven now and he loves them more than anything else in this world. He traces their smiling faces with a finger trying to ground himself.

Sometimes he wants to quit this job, to move somewhere far away where people don’t vanish and the monsters lurking in the night are only human, but he doesn’t. He can’t… Not if he wants to send his daughters through collage... He’d be hard pressed to find a job with even close to the benefits and pay this one offers.

There’s a knock on his office door. Duke jolts and looks up. Samson is standing there with a hesitant expression. Duke waves him in. His eyebrows are drawn together but, as he settles in the other chair, he gives Duke a gentle smile.

“How are you doing?”

“…Okay,” Duke says.

It’s a lie and both of them know it, but Samson nods and doesn’t press any farther.

“So what are Natasha and Rylie getting up to these days?”

Duke gives him a grateful look.

“Well Nat has just informed us that she will now be training to be the first space rancher. I knew that watching Star Wars would result in _something_ …” He starts.

As Duke rambles on about his family’s antics he feels himself relax. Maybe there’s something wrong with this town but the people are kind and the area is pleasant. Certain… _things…_ aside he’s quite happy working here. Every job… Every _city_ , comes with its own dangers. Arcadia’s are just a little… _unusual_.

That’s okay… He’s okay…

As long as he follows the Rules, Duke knows he has nothing to fear…

…

…

Right?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This particular chapter takes a theory from Tumblr that when someone gets killed off in Arcadia the changelings temporarily replace them with a polymorph who then moves away from town and fakes their death. It keeps people from getting suspicious or making any connections. (This theory was created by Archaeopter-Ace go check them out on Tumblr! The link to the origional post of the theory is below)
> 
> I hope you enjoyed this story as much as I enjoyed writing it. Let me know what you think!
> 
> https://archaeopter-ace.tumblr.com/post/182499140810/arcadia-ubran-legends-side-note-on-the-subject-of


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